


Castle

by etherina



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-10
Updated: 2017-07-21
Packaged: 2018-08-07 23:01:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7733152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/etherina/pseuds/etherina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by the song 'Castle' by Halsey</p><p>✦ shameless smut fic</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Castle

**Author's Note:**

> Kinda ooc and unrealistic but hey, it's called fan ~fiction~ for a reason.
> 
> Started as a one shot but additional chapters have been added by request <3

 

Sansa Stark was once a disciplined young lady, always courteous and charming. Her family had been honorable and well respected, they were the oldest house in the North after all, but as the long war plagued the wide lands of the realm, everything changed.

Her father and older brother died in battle while fighting alongside the former King, Robert Baratheon. They were all betrayed by their so-called allies from the South. Her mother passed away in childbirth along with the babe that was supposed to be her first younger brother. Her sister fell ill shortly after and died of the fever, despite being such a strong and willful soul, and so was Sansa the only one left.

She stopped grieving rather quickly. She realized that there was no point in doing so. She had people to take care of, and winter was coming. Her father’s bannermen pledged allegiance to her without question. They asked her if they should keep fighting to avenge her father, but she declined.

The war was practically over and the new King was to be crowned. She sent a raven pledging her allegiance to him and it was quickly accepted, despite not having a meeting in person.

She ruled the North as Wardeness, appointed by the King whom she would never meet. She sometimes got the feeling that the cold, vast, North was like its own kingdom, separated from the rest of the realm and could only be tamed by true northerners.

It appeared her people thought so too and she sometimes heard how they called her  _Queen in the North_ whenever they thought she didn’t hear _._ Perhaps she should’ve tried to stop those whispers but she did nothing. She didn’t exactly care if the people called her a Queen. She wasn’t one.

But clearly the King cared. When her scouts came riding, warning her of a hundred soldiers approaching from the South, she had gathered her council. They didn’t like her idea, not at all, but she simply told them they had no choice. She would not fight another silly war only to be defeated.

She ordered her men to open the gates and the small army rode in carefully with the King’s banner flapping in the wind. Her council had suggested her to prepare for a siege, and the soldiers had probably expected her to do so as well, but she found that it was better to face this problem head on.

She greeted them without much formality or courtesy. She had been a well behaved girl before the war but now she knew that there was no point. Her family had been respected. Her family had been honorable. Her family had died. There was no escaping death, so why should she care for silly courtesies? She was sick of such things.

The soldiers told her they were to escort her to King’s Landing for an audience with the King. She knew there would be no point in fighting it, so she simply accepted and offered them to stay the night but they refused. They had strict orders from the King and they would head back as soon as possible.

Slightly annoyed by their stubbornness, she headed back inside and ordered the maids to pack her belongings and draw a bath. The soldiers would have to wait for her. She would not leave until she was ready to.

When she was bathed and dressed properly for travels, she sent for her council again and left them in charge while she was absent. They seemed worried that she would only bring a few guards with her but she told them it would be all right.

They left early in the afternoon and she was frustrated over the fact that the soldiers insisted on leaving immediately. It would be dark in only a few hours and it would have been better to leave in the early morning.

Nevertheless, she rode with them, because the King had given a command.

They traveled for three weeks with only a few days of rest in between. The climate was warmer each day and Sansa went from wearing thick furs to light chiffon gowns.

They stopped by on a street in the city of King’s Landing and Sansa bought some things from the common people on the market; fabric, jewelry, fruit and gowns. The soldiers looked at her like she was a mad woman when she paid most of the people extra in gold. She didn’t care for their opinion.

They could look all they wanted. She had more than enough gold, and the people appreciated her generosity. Some of the orphans on the street started calling  _‘mother’_ after her as she passed.

It was early afternoon when she rode into the Red Keep on her white mare with her guards behind her, the grey and white Stark banner held high. A servant boy clad in fine silks greeted them and she was showed to her private chambers where a bath had already been set up.

She washed her body and hair with the fragranced oils and soaps that were provided. It was clear that the new King had no problem with spending the wealth that he apparently had, at least on his guests.

Later, there was a sharp knock on the door and the servant boy announced that the King would receive her within the hour in the throne room. She replied with a ‘thank you’ and walked over to her trunk that was filled with her belongings.

She picked out a long chiffon gown; her finest attire that she had never had the opportunity to wear in the North. It had a halter neckpiece of silver, engraved with the direwolf sigil of House Stark. The fabric was light gray with snow white embroideries fading onto the skirt.

With her arms bare, she looked rather out of place in King’s Landing where long clocked sleeves were the preferable look, but she thought her appearance should make an unspoken statement. She wasn’t like them. She would not dress to please anyone, not even the mysterious King.

She combed her hair and braided it delicately on the top, letting the rest of the copper waves fall down her back. Right when she finished, Brienne knocked on the door to follow her to the throne room. Brienne was her most trusted knight and advisor. She was immensely loyal and Sansa knew that the woman would fight until her last breath if she was commanded to.

The doors to the throne room were closed and so she waited patiently outside. She had a feeling that the King wanted to frustrate her and, seeing through the ruse, commanded Brienne to wait outside. She wanted to show the King that she had no fear of him.

The doors finally opened and she held her gaze forward and her head high. She walked with long and elegant steps towards the mighty iron throne — made of the thousand blades of Aegon’s enemies. It was an ugly thing really, why anyone would ever want to sit on such an uncomfortable throne was beyond her understanding.

The crowd was on either side of her as she strode past. Green and silver banners hung the walls along with fine silk draperies, making the room look more inviting than the King.

He was an older man, as shown by the greying hairs on his temples and the fine lines around his eyes, but it didn’t exactly make him look bad. The old King had looked worse.

He did not wear a crown, instead he wore a mockingbird pin by the collar of his silk coat. Silver rings were like armor on his slender fingers, clasped together in front of him. His back was straight, his position poised, and every hair in place. He was every inch a King appearance wise.

His kingsguard was standing in their silver armor, as grim as ever. There were ten of them; five on each side of the stairs that led to the throne.

His dark eyes never left hers as she approached and he had a strange smirk on his face. She couldn’t tell if he was amused by her or if he was plotting to kill her; it seemed like both but she was not afraid. She was intrigued. She had never been faced with a situation like this before. It became a game to her.

“Your Grace,” she said sweetly, almost in a mocking tone, and curtsied without breaking eye contact with him as she reached the bottom of the stairs. She didn’t even dip very low. She was challenging him, and none in the court seemed to notice anything amiss with her actions. They didn’t pay attention like it was apparent he did.

“Lady Stark,” he greeted back. His voice was husky, unlike anything she had heard before, but it only seemed to fit him.

“It has come to my attention that you have proclaimed yourself Queen in the North,” he said calmly, still smirking devilishly, and the crowd started to whisper to each other. Of course, something like that was scandalous.

“ _I_ have not proclaimed myself anything and  _my_   _people_  have not proclaimed me anything. You’ve heard mere whispers, Your Grace, nothing more,” she said and glared at him. His eyes were like deep pools of smoke and moss.

“ _Your people?_ I’m sure you are aware that you have sworn your allegiance to _me_ , Lady Stark,” he said threateningly, his expression more intimidating, but she refused to cower. If he wanted her to be scared, he would have to fight a lot harder.

“I am of the North, just like my people. You are an outsider. Forgive me, Your Grace, but experience had made us weary of outsiders,” she said with a sweet voice, only the faintest of frost exposing the ice behind her words. She stepped onto the first level of the stairs and the kingsguard stirred, warning her to not go any closer to the King. However, she didn’t look at them. Her gaze was fixed on the King.

He nodded slowly, the smirk never leaving his lips. The game she had recently discovered was addicting. Perhaps it was stupid,  _idiotic_ _even_ _,_ but so  _exhilarating._ Her life was changing finally. For better or worse, she did not know, but it was _changing._

“I suggest you keep your tongue tied, my Lady,” he said and twisted a ring around his finger. The crowd was still whispering nervously, ready to gossip of what scandals occurred in the throne room.  _If they want a scandal, I’ll give them one._

It was such a small move she made, but it caused such a big reaction. She merely took a step up again, getting into eye level with the seated king, and two longswords clanged together to form a cross in front of her.

She didn’t even flinch, as she had been more than prepared. She wasn’t exactly sure what made her so unafraid, but she guessed it was the desire to provoke him, to get a reaction. He didn’t seem like a person many people would challenge like this, and that made it all the more exiting.

“And you should keep your feet still,” he warned her, but strangely enough, he didn’t sound very angry. He almost sounded impressed.

“What if I don’t,  _Your Grace?_ ” she said, almost mockingly.

He swallowed lightly and seemed to lick the inside of his teeth behind the closed smirk.

“Perhaps I’ll have you executed?” he announced daringly but she did not believe he would truly do that, not for one second. It would be a poorly planned move, one that would send the North into raging war against him. He wouldn’t risk that. The North was the largest area of the Seven Kingdoms.

“The man who passes the sentence should swing the sword,” she repeated the words her father had always said. He had always followed that rule, and she was now subtly asking the King if he could do the same.

He flicked out his fingers in a quick motion and the guards lowered their swords immediately. Sansa smirked, not so unlike him, in triumph. She took stepped up the two remaining levels and now towered over him right in front of the throne. He looked up at her through his dark lashes. She found herself liking the sight of him like that.

She waited for him to speak now, as it was his turn to counter the move, but instead of speaking, he rose elegantly. He was now looking down at her again and she was the one to look up.

Their chests were close, far too close than what would be deemed appropriate but neither of them seemed to care about the gossip that would haunt the halls late at night.

Distantly, she caught the scent of mint coming from his breath.

“Lady Brienne, you may escort Lady Sansa back to her chamber,” he husked, his voice echoing around the hall with hidden power. He spoke to her trusted knight but his eyes never left hers. That is, until Sansa broke contact and turned around, descending the stairs to join Brienne who had disobeyed the orders to stay outside.

Sansa didn’t blame her. It was Brienne’s job to protect her and it surely must’ve looked, and sounded like, she was in danger. Brienne walked by her side as she exited the throne room just as elegantly as she had entered.

She made herself comfortable in her chamber in the evening, resting on the chaise by the window that overlooked King’s Landing. She wondered who had won the round by the throne. Had she, or him? All she knew was that she wanted a rematch.

Someone knocked on the door and she told them to come in. It was Brienne, with a deep frown on her face. She had worn that expression quite a lot lately.

“My Lady, the King requires your presence in his study,” she announced and Sansa couldn’t stop her eyebrows from arching in surprise. Perhaps he wanted a rematch too then. She thanked Brienne and dismissed her, explaining that she would do just fine on her own.

The walk to the King’s study wasn’t long and when she approached, the guards stationed outside opened the door for her without question. She stepped in, looking around the room.

There was a desk in the center of the room and a door to the side. She assumed that it led to a connecting chamber, most likely a washroom or bedroom.

The King himself was sitting on a chair, his elbows resting on the desk in front of him with his fingers clasped together. The guards closed the door behind her and his lips instantly dragged into a devilish smirk.

“Lady Sansa,” he greeted.

“Your Grace,” she said, this time without a curtsy and strode closer to him to stand on the opposite side of the desk.  His eyes studied her closely when she reached down and grazed the surface of the wood with her fingertips.

“I sent for you to ask how you would like to be executed. So?” He asked with a raised eyebrow and she couldn’t stop the slight giggle that escaped her lips.

“You know just as well as I that executing me would be foolish. The North would never follow you, or anyone else, and they would never forget what you did to the last Stark. The North always remembers,” she said, a knowing smile grazing lips. Now he was the one to laugh, a deep chuckle timbering through his chest.

“The North does not have the numbers, and when they do, years will have passed. They won’t remember what happened,” he said while standing up, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards for half a second. His fingertips grazed the wood, just like hers had, when he moved around the table slowly.

She raised an eyebrow at him daringly.

“They won’t? Perhaps I should confess that when your 100 men approached, my counselors told me to prepare for a siege simply because you did not fight on my father’s side during the war four years ago. Oh, and let’s not forget, even  _you_  were prepared for a fight. Otherwise you wouldn’t have sent 100 men. 20 would have been enough if you were so sure the North had forgotten.”

They now stood just as close as they had by the throne, his scent filling her lungs once again and his eyes locked onto hers.                                                      

“You’re awfully confident,” he muttered, the sweet scent of mint so strong she could almost taste it. She  _wanted_ to taste it.

“Are you going to do something about it, Your Grace?” she challenged, almost too quiet for it to be considered a whisper. He reached up and grabbed a lock of her copper hair, twisting it between his fingers.

She tried to keep her breathing steady but it was difficult with him so close. She ought to be afraid. He let go of her hair and let his fingers trace her collarbone only to travel up along her neck. He stopped right by her jaw and pressed his thumb under her chin; dragging it over her throat.

Her eyes fluttered at the overwhelming sensation. It was almost a chokehold, but she wasn’t frightened the slightest. _How strange._

She let out a ragged breath and his eyes flashed in desire, becoming impossibly darker. He moved closer to her, his lips open slightly, making them even more appealing than they had been before.

“Call me Petyr,” he growled low in his throat and pressed his lips against hers. It was rough, it was hard, and she loved it.

She reached up and grabbed the short hairs on the back of his head to press him closer. His hands weaved into her hair as well, gripping, pulling. He groaned low his throat and turned her against the desk, forcing her down onto it.

He pushed her legs apart and she lifted her hips to grind against his hardened manhood. The heat burned fiercely in her core and she wanted to extinguish it, or perhaps even spur it on. Inappropriate or not, she needed it.

He growled against her and bit her lower lip, enough to make it ache sweetly. His hands roamed her body, gripping her thighs so that she was sure it would leave bruises of his fingertips. He moved up along her frame, over her breasts, and up to her neck. He grabbed hold of the chiffon fabric and ripped it apart; leaving only the halter neckpiece of silver around her throat and her smallclothes covering the aching place between her legs.

It had been her finest gown but she paid it no mind in this moment. All she could feel was him. Her smallclothes were soaking wet, she was sure, and his fingers were pinching her nipples. It didn’t take long for them to harden under his touch and he caused the sweetest of pleasures, all while kissing her hungrily.

She could feel as he removed his hands to untie his breeches and she bit his lower lip hard, enough to taste iron, and pulled his face away so she could look at him.

His eyes were dark with desire and need, just like hers, and she smiled wickedly. It was a constant battle between them. She scraped her nails along his scalp and he made a guttural noise in response while gripping her thighs harshly again.

She took hold of the longer dark hair on his head and started to push him down, forcing him closer to her pulsing core. His lips dragged along her skin, leaving a small trail of red from his bleeding lip. She was no fool like many other girls, she knew what a man could do to pleasure a woman.

The thought of was she was doing sent her heart hammering wildly. He was the King, and _she_  was commanding him.

His wicked tongue, moving in circles over her sweet spot, made her legs shake and her nails dig deeper into his scalp. She moaned and whined all while grinding against him.

She put her legs over his shoulders, pressing him against her even further. He looked up at her through his lashes, just like he had on the throne. She knew there was a reasons he liked him in that position and she grinned wickedly at the memory.

 She could feel her wetness drip down between her legs and down on the desk. He groaned against her and the vibrations were the tipping point.

She moaned, her body quivering in waves of pleasure. She was still pulsating with sensation from her orgasm when he grabbed her legs harshly and wrapped them around his waist. She quickly held onto him, knowing that the roles had changed.

He lifted her off the desk and carried her over to the door. Her wetness was rubbing against him and soaking right through his breeches. He opened the door swiftly and kicked it close behind him before collapsing on the bed with her underneath.

He quickly undressed while kissing her, like he would go mad if he didn’t feel her lips. She could taste her own juices on him and she felt how it had soaked his trimmed beard. It made her grin.

Perhaps it was foolish of her to grant him access as he aligned himself at her entrance. Perhaps it was foolish to gift him her maidenhead, but it did not matter to her anymore.

She nodded at him as he silently asked permission and he slid inside her with ease. He groaned and filled her to the hilt.

He leaned over her and started kissing her neck, nipping, suckling. She moaned in response and his hips moved more furiously against her. She felt that familiar build up when she reached down between their bodies to touch herself.

“Call out my name,” he growled in her ear. That was the first time either of them had said a word in their needy lust. She rubbed herself faster, in the same rhythm as his cock moved inside her.

Her back arched as pleasure overwhelmed her and her release coursed through her body. She did as he had commanded, called out his name, and convinced herself it was not _because_ he had commanded it.

“Petyr…” she gasped out, pulsating around him and it didn’t take long until she felt his seed spill inside her. He gasped out her name and she couldn’t imagine hearing a more satisfying sound coming from his lips.

He collapsed but he did not crush her. He merely leaned on his elbows, looming over her, his lips dragging over hers like he was still chasing release.

He slowly pulled out of her and rolled to the side; pulling a thin silk cover over them both. His arm snaked around her and pulled her closer to him. Unknowingly, she was lazily drawing shapes on his chest.

“So? Will you execute me?” she asked after a time of silence, a smile spreading on her lips.

“No,” he said simply, his fingers spreading over the bare skin on her waist. She pressed herself closer to him, wanting to feel more even though she had already felt so much.

“Will you make me the Queen in the North then?” she teased and glanced up at him as she rested her head on his shoulder. He met her gaze with a smirk on his face, matching the one she wore.

“No. I’ll make you the Queen of Everything.”

* * *

  

✦ [Halsey - Castle](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cFrwi9Mje7E) ✦

 


	2. Hurricane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by the song 'Hurricane' by Halsey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter wooo!
> 
> So, I decided there will be three chapters and no more because I don't really have a plot to go any further lol. Anyways, I hope you enjoy this <3
> 
> all aboard the smut ship to hell

 

She raised an eyebrow at him.  _Queen of everything_. That was certainly an interesting title.

“How? By marrying you?” she asked with a coy smile and his expression was a good enough answer. He was smirking with satisfaction over his brilliant plan. He pulled her up along his side and kissed her fully on the lips, his tongue slipping into her mouth to entwine with hers.

She swung her leg over his body so that she was straddling him and she could already feel him stirring. She broke the kiss.

“And you consider yourself the King of everything?” she asked while she took his wrists and held them together over his head. Her breasts were bare over him but he was entranced by her eyes. She held him captive, refusing to let him free. She was in control now.

“I suppose I do,” he said with a smug look on his face. She scoffed.

“Well, you’re not. You don’t have everything,” she said and squirmed a bit where she sat on his chest, still wet from their coupling. He chuckled underneath her and raised an eyebrow.

“Tell me sweetling, what don’t I have?” he said, so full of pride and confidence. It was rather amusing how she could break that with only her words.

“Me.” He couldn’t hide the surprised look on his face. Clearly, he hadn’t expected her to say that but he quickly concealed it and smirked devilishly instead. With a quick yank, he had his hands free and grabbed her waist possessively. She whelped when he spun her to the side and trapped her with his body.

He was looming over her, his elbows on either side of her head and his hips in between her open legs. He slowly rubbed his hardened cock against her slit and chuckled low in his throat.

“Really? I just had you, mere minutes ago and I could have you again, right now. I’m quite sure you wouldn’t mind. The noises you’re making are quite convincing,” he said and kissed her hard, pulling at her lip with his teeth before pulling away again.

She hadn’t even realized she was moaning softly but when he mentioned it she forced herself to stop.  _Damn him. I love what he’s doing to me, damn him for it._

“You  _fucked_  me, you never had me,” she said seductively and he thrust against her again, making her gasp involuntarily. She could tell that he was desperate to be inside her again and it probably only spurred his arousal when she used such an improper word.  _Fucked._ _Ladies aren’t supposed to say such things,_ _she thought with amusement._

He raised an eyebrow in question, seemingly unable to form a proper response, his mouth hanging half open in a silent moan of pleasure.

“I belong to no one,” she said and slowly started to prop herself upwards, forcing him to retreat. He fell backwards a bit but caught himself with his arms while she crawled towards him. Like a wolf preparing to kill its prey.

“I cannot be owned.” She smiled and pressed him down by his shoulders so that his back hit the mattress with a thump. She crawled on top of him again but did not let him enter her yet.

“You can’t tame a wolf.” She clawed at his unmarked chest and finally sank down onto him, filling her core sweetly. He groaned and tried to buck his hips against her but she held him down firmly with one hand, the nails digging into the flesh of his hip while her other hand still clawed at his chest, keeping her steady.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk, so impatient Petyr…” she whispered, using his name to get a reaction from him. His eyes flashed with burning need and she slowly rolled her hips against him, focusing on what pleasured her rather than what pleasured him.

 She moaned when she hit a certain spot and went faster to feel it again. The heat was building up inside her again, feverish with tension. She removed her hand from his hip and started to rub her clit in the same rhythm as her hips moved.

“Gods Sansa…” he groaned and gripped her waist tightly, sure to leave marks, but she didn’t care at all. She liked the idea of him marking her. _She liked the idea of her marking him_. He bucked his hips against her again, hitting her hard on the spot she’d recently discovered. She was in far too deep to stop him from moving now.

He thrust into her a few more times and she tipped over the edge, shuttering in pleasure on top of him. She collapsed down onto his chest, her head buzzing. She was still clenching around him, pulsating, and it didn’t take long until he fell over the edge of his own completion.

His body relaxed underneath her and she kissed his jawline as he came down from his high. She suckled at a pulse point on his neck and saw the purple mark it left behind when she pulled away. Moving her body up on his chest, his softening cock slid out of her and she whimpered quietly from the loss of contact.

His lips quickly found hers and she responded the best she could with her exhausted body. He bit her lip lightly again and she moaned at the sensation before pulling back just enough to speak.

“I have to go,” she whispered against his lips, gave him a quick peck, and sat up fully, feeling as his seed started to drip out of her and onto his stomach.

“I hope you don’t mind me borrowing something of yours to wear. You did ruin my dress after all. But, of course, I could go back naked if you want me to…” She said with a wicked smirk and didn’t miss when his tongue peeked out to lick his lower lip that was still tinted red from his blood.

“I’m not sure any of my garments will fit you,” he said, clearly entertained by the idea of her walking back naked all the way to her chamber for all of the Red Keep to see. She swung her leg over him and climbed off the bed swiftly.

“I’m sure I’ll find something,” she said coyly and in a quick motion pulled the bedcovers away from his legs which had been tangled around it.

Holding it around her like one would with a towel after bathing she turned to him and wasn’t surprised to see him smirking delightfully. She curtsied mockingly and smirked back.

“Rest well,  _Your Grace,”_ she murmured and slipped through the door back to his study. The guards cast her some strange looks as she walked out and she giggled as she realized what they must have heard. All those noises they had made…

She walked straight back to her chamber and was relieved to find it empty. That the guards knew what she had been doing with the King was one thing, but if Brienne found out there would be a lot of explaining to do. The woman was loyal, yes, but rather overprotective at times. 

She undressed once again, though this time in the privacy of her chamber and with no King ripping her clothing apart, and quickly washed herself. She slipped on a thin nightgown appropriate for the warm climate of King’s Landing and fell asleep underneath the silk covers of her bed, a sweet ache still between her legs.

She slept for ages, not climbing out of bed until midday. Who knew it would be so exhausting to feel such pleasure? She certainly hadn’t known.

That was it — she was ruined now in the eyes of the world, but was that truly so bad? She didn’t think so. She hadn’t cared for her maidenhead at all the past few years. What did it matter now anyhow? It was done and she was glad she did it. She felt like she could do whatever she wanted now.

She sent some maids to bring the breakfast to her chamber and ate in silence before taking a stroll around the Red Keep. She had already missed the morning audience in the throne room and she wondered if the King had missed it as well. She hoped he did.  _Wouldn’t that be a glorious scandal? The King missing his own audience…_

She smiled to herself and stepped out on a balcony, half hidden behind an emerald green curtain. The railing reached all the way up to her navel and it was covered in the same colored fabric that flowed over the edge like a gown.

She placed her hands on the clad stone and looked down, calmly observing the gardeners attend the flowers that decorated the Red Keep. It was quiet and still. However, the peace was quickly disturbed by the clanking of armor getting closer.

She turned around just as Brienne pulled the curtain to the side. She stopped, standing in her usual poised position with a hand on her longsword and bent her head as a curtsy.

“My lady, I saw you come in here. I hope I’m not disturbing you,” Brienne said a bit sheepishly and straightened her back, showing that she would obey every order.

“Oh no, you’re not disturbing me. I was merely admiring the view,” Sansa said and glanced over her shoulder at Brienne before looking down again. An older man was carefully shaping a hedge, putting all his attention on making it look perfect.

“I would like to address my concerns, my lady,” Brienne said and Sansa turned back to her, a questioning but still warm look on her face. It was true that Sansa did not care much for courtesies anymore, but she was always kind to those who deserved it.

“Yes?” she asked and Brienne cleared her throat in slight discomfort.

“My lady… I have heard some distressing rumors. They say that you did not wear your own clothing as you left the King’s study. Forgive me if I’m intruding, I only wish to keep you safe,” Brienne said desperately and Sansa calmed her with a gentle hand on her armor clad shoulder.

Of course, rumors were inevitable and she wasn’t surprised that Brienne had heard them. She hated lying to those who were so loyal to her, but it had to be done now. Brienne couldn’t know about this. It would make a mess.

“I can assure you, I’m perfectly safe. My gown was accidentally ripped apart, I must’ve gotten stuck somewhere… But His Grace was kind enough to lend me something to remain proper. It was only a generous act, Brienne.” She said with a warm and convincing smile.

She was good at lying. It was a talent she had discovered in her later years and she often found that lies worked best if it was mixed with truth. Her gown  _had_  actually been ripped apart, just not in that exact situation. Not that this lie was one of her best ones exactly.

The sound of clacking heels against the stone floor echoed around and the peace was broken once again. As if he had sensed that someone was talking about him, the King appeared with a casual smirk on his perfectly angular face.

_When you speak of the devil…_

“Ladies.” He nodded and stopped by Brienne’s side who had a slight look of disgust directed at the King.

“Your Grace,” Brienne said stiffly and Sansa almost laughed when she saw how much taller she was compared the ‘ _oh so mighty’_ King. He did not even dare to walk past her.

“You may leave Brienne,” Sansa finally said and Brienne frowned a bit and shifted her weight, making the armor clank again.

“My lady, I’m not sure I should…” she began but Sansa’s commanding gaze made her stop mid-sentence. She nodded in defeat and walked off, the clanking disappearing in the hallways.

Sansa turned back to gaze out from the balcony and she heard how the King pulled the curtain closed behind them. She expected him to stand beside her but was startled as she felt his warm and soft hands grab her waist from behind.

She sucked in a breath as he leaned forward and nibbled the skin on her neck. His chuckle was vibrating through his chest.

“Did you sleep well, my love?” he asked and placed a kiss where his teeth had nipped her.  _My love? He can’t seem to get enough of me…_

“Tsk… Do you truly believe your sweet words will make me yours?” she said but couldn’t resist the moan that escaped her lips when he bucked his hips against her backside. She could feel his hard cock rub against her, making her yearn for the feeling of his fullness.  Gods, he certainly knew how to spur her on.

“Oh, I know they will, but a rough fuck won’t hurt either. Admit it, you want me desperately,” he husked in her ear and pulled up her skirt in the front before dragging his slender fingers over her clit, pushing her smallclothes to the side. She mewled in pleasure, thankful for the fabric that covered the railing of the balcony.

The people underneath wouldn’t see her exposed, but wouldn’t they see how inappropriately close she was to the King? Perhaps, and it thrilled her beyond measure. The slight fear of getting caught mixed with her arousal was once again a new sensation that she craved more and more.

“I don’t want you,” she said in a resisting gasp. Her skirt was completely bunched around her waist and his bulge was teasing her from behind while his fingers rubbed her clit erratically, making her body quiver.

“Oh, I think you do want me, my love. Can’t you hear the sounds you’re making? Tsk, tsk… so wanton, _so greedy_. It’s all because of me, isn’t it?” he said while unlacing his breeches with one hand behind her.

She started moving her hips against his hand, needing more of his touch, anything to get release. Her legs were beginning to shake and she had to grip the railing hard to keep herself upright. Gods, she was so close now. She was trying to keep her moans and gasps as quiet as possible but he made it almost impossible.

“I think… I think you are the one who wants me… You’re my prisoner, you can’t get enough of me,” she gasped out and felt the orgasm hit her when he deftly slid one finger inside of her. She cried out in pleasure as the tension in her body came crashing down. If he hadn’t been holding her up, she would’ve collapsed.

But before her waves had dulled out, he thrust his cock deep inside her and she cried out again. She was still sore from the day before but she couldn’t complain. His thrusts hit her right where she liked and his husky moans in her ear made her feel that pleasure rising again, readying to throw her off the edge. He kept rubbing her, his fingers slick with her arousal. She could almost smell it.

“Oh gods…” she gasped as he thrust harder, fucking her from behind in the most improper of ways, and she  _loved_ it.

“Beg for me Sansa. Only me,” he growled and she didn’t have it in her to refuse. She needed to feel wonderful sensation again.

“Please Petyr, more…” she moaned and he rubbed her clit faster until her legs wobbled and she collapsed against the railing, gasping for air in her orgasm. He thrust roughly one last time before spilling into her, filling her with his warmth.

He was breathing heavily on her neck, kissing her softly in between his gasps, and all she could do was let him. Gods, she loved this. She finally felt alive after so many years frozen in the cold North.

“Tell me, my love, do I have you now?” he whispered breathlessly and let her skirt fall down to cover her again. He pressed small kissed along her jawline and suckled a pulse point, making her moan softly again. She couldn’t lie now.

“Yes.”

* * *

 

✦ [Halsey - Hurricane](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fHipWe4mLGw) ✦

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to share on Tumblr or whatever platform you'd like as long as I'm credited for my work somehow <3
> 
> My Tumblr: [@etherina](https://etherina.tumblr.com/)


	3. Young God

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by the song 'Young God' by Halsey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last and final chapter here for you!

He chuckled and spun her around, his face mere inches from hers. His green eyes were glowing victoriously and she couldn’t help but giggle at the sight of him.

“Do I have  _you,_  then?” she whispered with only a tinge of uncertainty and he smirked wickedly, his lips grazing hers in a lazy motion.

“How couldn’t you?” he simply said and kissed her softly and yet with a need so great she ached for him again. She moaned into his mouth and pulled away reluctantly, only to speak.

“We shouldn’t be this close. If Brienne comes back and sees us, there will be hell to pay,” she whispered with a playful smile. How would the King get himself out of that one?

“Meet me tonight,” he simply said, ignoring her slight warning, and kissed her again.

“Why?” she teased him, pretending to pull away but he swiftly pulled her closer, holding her tighter to his chest.

“Do not play games with me, sweetling,” he husked and nipped her ear, his hand exploring the outline of her body almost by their own accord. She smiled, dragging her nails through his scalp, making him groan. His eyes fluttered close.

“Oh, but why not? I find them so… _enticing,”_ she hummed in his ear and gently snaked out of his embrace, deftly avoiding his hands as they chased after her. She pulled the curtain to the side and started walking down the corridor, not surprised as he quickly fell into step beside her.

“I’m only warning you, love. I always win in games like these.” He pulled her into an alcove, pressing her against the wall, trapping her with his arms. Her breath hitched.

“Played these games often then, have you?” she asked, a sharp edge of bitterness barely distinguishable in her breathless voice. His brow furrowed a fraction before a soft smirk tugged his lips upwards.

“No,” he whispered. “Never like this. Never with someone like you.” She shouldn’t trust him but there was something in his voice that spoke the truth.

“I’ll meet you tonight,” she relented to his earlier wish and he made a sound of satisfaction, pressing his knee between her thighs, making her gasp as the burning desire in her abdomen rekindled.

“Good girl.” With that, he swept away, leaving her in the dim light of the alcove, struggling to slow her heartbeat to a sensible level.

As nightfall approached, a servant boy knocked on Sansa’s door, informing her that the King was awaiting her presence in the throne room. As she walked in she found Petyr standing at the foot of the staircase, looking up at the Iron Throne, a completive glint in his eye.

“I didn’t expect you to call me here,” she said softly as she reached him, her arm brushing against his. He did not respond, only kept staring. Curious, she looked up as well, scrutinizing the throne in an attempt to find what had captured his attention so.

“What do you see?” she finally asked and slowly walked up the steps, just like she had that first time she’d met him. When she finally was close enough, she touched the armrest, her fingertips grazing over the blades that were welded together.

“There aren’t a thousand blades,” he husked, not answering her question. “There aren’t even two hundred.”

Sansa looked down at him and raised an eyebrow questioningly. “Don’t tell me you’re disappointed,” she stated dryly.

A smile tugged at his lips. “Underwhelmed perhaps, but not disappointed.”

She huffed in response, daringly walking around the throne before seating herself on it. It was uncomfortable, as was to be expected, and yet somehow satisfying. _High above them all,_ she thought as a sudden rush of power coursed through her. This truly was a seat like no other.

She met Petyr’s gaze, fascinated by how dark his eyes turned as he looked her over. In her distraction, she nicked her finger on one of the blades, sucking in a sharp breath at the sting, but her focus was not turned away from the King below her.

He took a step up, his hands flexing by his sides.

“I had a picture in my mind — of you beside me as I rule,” he rasped low and took another step, coming eye level with her.

“Oh?” she whispered, her mouth suddenly feeling dry.

“But I must admit, this is almost better.”

“What is?” she licked her lips, breathing speeding up.

“You sitting there, on the mightiest throne there is.” She swallowed hard as he took the last step, looming over her like a shadow. His words caused a shiver to run down her spine.

She stood up slowly, her knees feeling strangely wobbly, only to have him capture her in his arms. His kiss was both gentle and desperate, caressing and crushing. She did not entirely know what to make of it.

Without her realizing it, he had spun around and she gasped when she fell forward into his lap as he sat down on the throne. He was already hitching up her skirt as her own fingers mindlessly fumbled with the ties of his breeches.  She pressed closer to him, not minding how he held her trapped.

Before she had much time to react to the removal of her smallclothes, he plunged into her, filling her to the hilt.

He pumped roughly into her, over and over, rasping out her name in her ear as she whimpered with each thrust. She could feel the fabric of her dress get stuck on the swords of the throne, getting ripped as she rocked her hips in her chase for bliss.

She smiled. Petyr could ruin all of her dresses if he liked, as long as he fucked her like this.

His thumb circled against her clit, bringing her to the edge. Her legs trembled with tension as she finally crashed down, setting off his release as well, and they both gasped with the sensation. Her every nerve ending was tingling sweetly from his touch.

They were both panting in exhaustion and she leaned her head on his shoulder, her eyes drooping. Petyr lazily let his arm hold her waist, pulling her close, his fingers drawing invisible shapes on her back.

He buried his face in her mass of copper hair, his beard scratching the skin of her neck lightly in between kisses, and she could hear his long intake of breath.

“Is this what if would be like if I was your Queen?” she sighed, her body yearning to keep the warm sensation that suddenly bloomed in her chest. “Would you always make me feel like this?”

“Whatever you want that is in my power, I will do,” he answered and pulled her head away from his shoulder so he could look at her, cradling her face in his calloused hands. His eyes were impossibly deep, like she could see his very soul. “You, my love, are the future of the realm.”

“Truly?” she whispered, breathing a laugh. He made it sound so awfully dramatic.

“Together, we’ll be unstoppable,” he husked, smirking victoriously. “Men will bend the knee in a heartbeat when hearing your name entwined with mine. So, what do you say?”

She was quiet for a while, contemplating her answer before smiling warmly at him.

“I’ve always been good at painting,” she said suddenly and he raised an eyebrow in apparent confusion. She bit back her laughter. “And I must admit — it _is_ a pretty picture.”

He needed no further answer. He only pulled her in for another demanding kiss, knowing the world would forever be theirs.

* * *

  

✦ [Halsey - Young God](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vQt1NK86t2Q) ✦

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this last chapter, although it is a bit short. (also, u know I just HAD to make them bang on the Iron throne, right? lol, I was compelled to)
> 
> Please comment your final thoughts on this fic! I appreciate all feedback, at any time. Also, thank you all who have read this. I love you<3
> 
> My Tumblr: [@etherina](https://etherina.tumblr.com/)


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